


Perks of Dating Dean Winchester #2 - In The Dark

by witchofletters



Series: Perks of Dating Dean Winchester [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chronic Illness, F/M, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Mild Hurt/Comfort, fibromyalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 16:36:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofletters/pseuds/witchofletters
Summary: Dean can soothe her when no one else can.





	Perks of Dating Dean Winchester #2 - In The Dark

Pain lanced through my head as I tried to sit up. Nope. Not happening. Sitting up sent swirling waves of nausea through me, the migraine that was lurking at the front of my brain felt like it sloshed my brain against the insides of my skull, the pain only intensifying. I laid down, sniveling, trying not to let the tears come. I knew it’d only make my head hurt more but I couldn’t seem to stop the pitiful whine or the tears that escaped me. I tucked my knees up, wrapping my arms around a spare pillow and pressing my sobs into the fluffy down, holding myself together as best I could.

Which was apparently not well at all.

“Sweetheart?” A gravelly voice from the other side of the door made my whine catch in my chest.  _ Curses, foiled again.  _ “You okay, kiddo?” There was a gentle rap on the wooden door. I tried to stifle my sniffly sounds. I heard the slight creak of the old hinges and I screwed my eyes up against the bolt of light that shot through the room when he cracked the door. I could hear the faint sounds of Ella Fitzgerald floating down the hall from the library and even that was too loud. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah….yeah,” I replied weakly, eyes still shut and back turned toward the door. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure looks like it.” I heard the click of the door closing behind him and the gentle sounds of his boots across the tiled floor. The sharp bar of light from the hall disappeared and the pressure behind my eyes receded slightly. Shivers traversed my arms and legs and I curled into myself more, wanting another blanket but feeling too shitty to even bother grabbing it from the back of the desk chair. I heard his boots come around the far side of the room and I gasped slightly when I felt another fleecy blanket settle over me. “There you go,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than me. The sound of boots hitting the floor moved back around the foot of the bed and I figured the light would pierce the room and then disappear again as he left, but instead I felt the edge of the mattress dip as he sat down behind me. I could feel him shifting but I stayed silent. 

_ Rasp rasp thunk. Rasp rasp thunk.  _

_ _ In my fuzzy state I could have sworn it sounded like he was kicking off his boots and I opened my mouth to say something when I felt an icy draft down my spine. 

“Budge over,” he said gruffly. I did as I was told and soon enough the stripe of cold down my back was replaced by warm solidness. “Lift your head.”

“You’re really fucking bossy, you know that, Winchester?” Part of me  _ was _ teasing, but the other part was deadly serious. A cranky woman is not something to be trifled with. He chuckled against my hair and slid his arm under my neck, pulling me close to him. Oh, he was cozy warm and any irritation I’d been feeling melted away. 

“There.” One big arm snaked around my middle and he pulled me tight to him. “I gotcha. Just relax.” I couldn’t seem to though. I remained stiff, feeling awkward. “Hey.” His breath was warm against my ear, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay, I know th-”

I cut him off. “You don’t know  _ anything _ .” I spat the words harshly, hot tears welling in my eyes. “And it is  _ not _ okay.” He was silent and though he did not move, I fully expected him to leap off the mattress and excuse himself.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know I don’t get it. Not really, anyway. I’m sorry.” He nuzzled his nose against my hair. “What can I do?”

Those four words undid something in my chest and the stinging tears started. Pain unfurled like a sodden wet flag, thick and heavy, unpleasant and uncomfortable.

“I don’t  _ know _ !” I croaked. “It just  _ hurts _ , Deano and I hate it.” I felt him nuzzle his nose against my hair, the gentle drag of his fingertips over my arm.

“I can't blame you, sweetheart,” he mumbled softly. “I can't even imagine.” His voice soothed me and I found myself pressing back against him, longing for the security offered by his arms, the strength and solid mass of him a comfortable barrier between the cool, soothing darkness and the harsh glare of the hall. More tears welled and I rubbed my face against my shoulder awkwardly. The arm that encircled me left briefly. Dean was reaching back around to his butt pocket from which he produced a soft, clean handkerchief, black patterned with white and grey paisley swirls. He tucked it into my hand so I could dab at my leaking eyes and streaming nose. I sniffled pitfully and he pulled me close again, tracing invisible designs over my skin, under the blanket. My breathing slowed to match his measured inhales, the rhythm of his breath calming and hypnotic. He began to hum quietly, a Bad Company song he knew was my favorite, verses of “Crazy Circles” thrumming in his chest, the sensation almost like a cat’s purr. 

_ Oh, I will face the sun, leaving shadows far behind. And together, we’ll roll on, through time.  _

The lyrics floated through my mind, though he didn’t speak them, and I felt my eyelids droop, imagining brightly painted horses on their shining brass poles moving in time to ‘70s rock.

“Please don’t go.” I wasn’t entirely sure I spoke aloud.

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, kiddo. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Dean replied, tightening his grip and holding me close, keeping the pain from engulfing me and pulling me under. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”


End file.
